Heracles oh Heracles

I had lunch with a friend today and we discussed a great many important things happening in our lives.

My friend, as is typical of pretty much everyone I know, is pregnant. Unusually, this is her first. I respect her so very much because she is around my age. I do wish I were just like her, though. Somehow, she has managed to get herself married and with child within the last few years. sigh! but! I am very happy for her and no amount of envy that I may feel towards that type of situation could ever detract from how wonderful I think life can be for people, especially for those who do whatever it is that they do, and what they do is 100% perfect so that is why they are living that 100% perfect life. So I am very happy for her and I love the fact that she is living her dream. She deserves it!

I am not always sure if I ought to have kids. With my history of traumatic experiences with luck or fate, I ought to leave well enough alone. But I have to say, sometimes all I want to do is nestle myself deep inside that lovely huge lovesac and embroider and knit until I have outfitted a household ready for an army of little brilliant scientists. And little MHes.

But then sometimes I worry that there will never be another unfortunate soul of my blood, good old MH- who did not receive the greatest education, never had any sort of positive role models, and certainly doesn't have her shit together any better than anyone 15 years younger.

I can't blame my parents because emulating them was not an option, due to my unending disdain. I can only blame myself. I sometimes wonder how my life would have been different if I had made different choices in different times. But now I realize that it doesn't matter any longer anyway. Lessons are sometimes learned too late.

Luring men into fatherhood never works, but if I were younger perhaps I would be a mother right now and I wouldn't give two farts what anyone thought about it. But stupid MH. I'm always concerned with my dignity, self-respect and of course, the respect of some other fucking idiot.

Confidentially, if Heracles were dumb enough to have sex with me unprotected, I'd most happily do my damnedest to get pregnant. I would. I would nurture any child I had at this advanced age, and I wouldn't have much urge to even notify any sperm supplier, especially if he had no desire to father my children!

I wouldn't expect child support. If a man doesn't want his child, why bother with the money aspect of it? It seems so backwards to me. I would think he should pay if he WANTS access to the child. Simple supply and demand.

Oh well. I will be childless. I can handle it because I am scared of it all anyhow. Mothering human beings is one of those truly thankless careers. We, as human females, want NOTHING more than to have children and take care of them, but somehow, as in so many other ways, my intended path never stuck with the main.

And that, my dears, is why I am sitting here right now, almost finished with a bottle of barely palatable CA merlot and wondering what the fuck I'm doing here worrying about being alone the rest of my life when I have a dog and a pension.

Online dating. Is it worth the money?

My friend recently bought a subscription to what I contend is an overpriced online dating site. GIMO is still utilizing his subscription at the OTHER site, and we all discussed the differences. I tried my best to prove that these sites are highway robbery and should not be patronized in the least. They, being ardent believers in the power of these matching services, tried equally hard to convince me to give one of the sites a try. Here we go again. Everybody feels sorry for MH because she's alone, but nobody ever asks her if she's happy to be alone. Because why the hell would a woman be happy alone, huh? We have no use to anybody if we aren't servicing a man with sex or rearing a child. We can't possibly lead a fulfilling life.

Anyway. Friend is having the time of her life with her new hobby. She chatters nonstop about the "electrician," "engineer," "retired businessman," and "contractor." They each have special attributes ( as in big house, nice car, grown-up kids, etc), but of course there are the trade-offs. Some have "a few extra pounds" while others just don't know how to dress or wear a mullet. GIMO is now seeing a special someone, who he met through his site, but he still keeps his options open. He describes his prospects as, "blond with nice body," "blond with glasses," "brunette with nice ass but has a kid," and "blond with big nose but good job."

I observed, to their vehement disagreement, that online dating seems to be more like ordering something off of amazon. All we have to do is place a value on our desired characteristics, search for them, and out pops our order. It seems shallow, but I guess it is done all the time in other ways. I guess it's just like a bar, only sometimes you have to spend a minute or two talking to someone before you find out they are unfit to date. I can't say that I think it's the absolute worst thing to do. I like making pro/con lists and wtf better do some of us single, ALONE people have to do anyway? Still, I'm not interested in paying for it all.

But then later on, I attended a training class, in which I was seated next to a guy I found to be very cute. I know he wouldn't look good on a profile because he makes the same amount I do and he wears glasses. But he was still cute and I'd go out with him. I thought about making conversation with him, but as usual, opted to doodle when not busy listening to a My Wonderful Kid's Progress update from a co-worker I hardly ever see anymore.

I guess anything's worth a try if you honestly want to try it.

Poor Firefighters

I don't know. Maybe it was the fact that I was out with a gay friend the other night. Maybe it had a little bit to do with the article I read and then referred to in this post. Maybe I'm 34. Maybe I'm ovulating??? Maybe I've had a couple of days to STEW about X getting laid and it's pissing me off that I didn't go ahead and get it all over with first!

But I'm not sure. It could be any of the above. And we all know that I have immeasurable quantities of self control- especially when compared to that juvenile.

Not long ago, a meth lab near my workplace exploded or something and we were all treated to such a show as put on by the local fire station. An officemate and I stood around gawking at the bravery and efficiency they displayed in taming the beastly flames. The house next door started to catch on fire. One fireman grabbed a hose while some others helped, and off he went. Crash! He dove THROUGH a glass door, RIGHT into the burning house! I just about fainted. I think my officemate almost did too, and he's not even gay. Really, how could anyone RESIST loving these guys? All fire was put out in about three minutes and with the police left to finish up all the boring crap, we all went back to work. Firemen probably went back to lifting weights.

Anyway. I had to run to the office this afternoon. Sunday is my "get all this shit done before the boss gets to work in the morning" day. For the first time, I noticed the
fire station not more than a few short blocks from there. I slowed the car a bit, leering at the figures walking around inside the big garage area thing. Looking pretty good, for dark shady figures! Which distinguishes them from the fire fighters near my house. They are old and yucky. Too many 'roids like that Benoit dude. But we're talking about the inner city over by the office, so I'm sure all the strapping young stallions ( oops did I just say that ) have to start out in problem areas of the city.

A friend of mine was working on a project when I got to my desk. I gushed over the firemen, vowing to contribute to one of their Holiday drives for Starving Children in South Phoenix or whatever. And I will, too! I will TRY not to cat-call them or make any of those crude "hose" jokes because firemen are NOT just some objects for our gratification, okay? They are human beings. With feelings. And muscles. Young, STRONG muscles. So I need to have a little more respect. My friend was also entertained by their show, and had already thought up an excuse to pay an innocent visit to the station. At least I'm not THAT bad.

understanding social problems

A second ago, I glanced at one of my book cases and of course this old text book, above named, caught my attention. Should I read it again? It's probably outdated and I'm quite sure none of those authors understand my problems.

Problem #1: I am so sick of my job. No longer do I find it fulfilling. In fact, everybody irks me to no end. I find myself making cynical "jokes" that even I don't bother laughing at. I'm not trying to be funny anymore.

Problem #2: Not that I'm desperate for a relationship or anything, but it just occurred to me that my main man happens to be Merriweather Lewis, as characterized by that most romantic of all writers, Stephen Ambrose. Talk about steamy.

Problem #3: I'm also sick of my job because I seem to do nothing but work. How about a vacation? Well, let's see here. I can afford to go maybe thirty miles. In that case, I could make it to one of our friendly local casinos, where I would promptly be relieved of my $20 "spending money." I'd be back to work within a day.

Problem #4: I suspect Merriweather Lewis has some sort of opium addiction, but we'll have to see about that.

Problem #5: FRANK loaned the Merriweather book to me. He thought I'd like it.

Same old things on my restless mind

All this thought about houses and what you have to do to get them reminds me of probably why I'm so disgruntled about not being able to work today. Today would have been my/our 5-year wedding anniversary.

I sure wish I could erase the whole ordeal from my mind. I don't want to be married to X again. But I did so much enjoy being married in many ways. If only bla bla bla, right? I realize that it wasn't a great match, NOW. Actually, neither one of us are great spouses. But I can't imagine that all the other people in the world who ARE married and making it "work" are perfect. I think about what my imperfections are, and wonder WTF is SO bad about them. I think it's unfair that they are even thought of as imperfections.

So I complain about litterers. So what. So I REFUSED to watch sexually explicit movies. Is that going to kill a guy? Really, I wouldn't have had a problem with it if he didn't find it to be such an integral part of life. I have no respect for a guy who allows his mind to be controlled by the greedy producers of pornography. Doesn't he understand that he is being USED by these companies? Well, that was X's biggest gripe. He contends that I'm just impossible for a guy to live with, due to my aversion to anything that I deem to be objectifying. I didn't start out being like that in our relationship, I just slowly starting noticing him dumbly staring at women when we were out and about. I noticed him being mesmerized during a token sex scene in a movie. But never, ever was he interested in staring dumbly at me. I probably became jealous of the cheerleaders he drooled over and looked at on the internet all the time.

Add to that his refusal to get a job, help take care of daily upkeep of the house, and complaining about how he was "meant for more" than being trapped in a non-rockstar existence, you have a ruined marriage. So I wasn't perfect.

I don't think I will ever be a good wife again. I still grow uncomfortable and a bit upset every time I see those cheerleaders X loved to ogle. I still avoid movies with sexually explicit scenes. It brings back bad memories. I don't believe it's normal for men to be preoccupied with the body parts of women other than their partners. I think it shows immaturity or a lack of respect, which is immature. So I'm impossible.

I guess I just have to accept that I'm ALWAYS going to be alone/single. I would definitely rather be alone than stuck with someone like X. Even if the guy had a job, I still wouldn't want him. It does suck being alone and not having someone to cook for and take care of and love, but it doesn't suck as much as loving someone who can't love you back.

I have friends who would disagree with that statement. One friend of mine has been unhappily (IMO) married for 12 years. Her husband is the epitome of what I would call a loser. When he is not working, he spends most of his time at one of a few bars. He holds down his job, but he ignores her most of the time. They don't do anything together. But they are married, and it's a partnership that she just doesn't want to give up. One time, I arrived at their house. We had made plans to spend the entire day shopping at a new mall. I rang the doorbell and knocked, but there was no answer. I could barely make out their forms through the glass paned door, which provided a skewed view of the back yard through the sliding glass patio door. He handed her a cup of coffee and casually placed his arm around her shoulder for a few seconds before sitting down across from her. I realized that this is enough to keep her there.

I wondered if I would have ever divorced X if he had ever touched me like that. I am not sure. Wow, your husband touching you without you touching him first? Unheard of. Oh well, I'll never know now. If I were to bet on it, I wouldn't bet that this would have stopped the wheels from turning, but it might have made them turn much more slowly.

I don't know about him, but I was happy for the most part, until I realized that he was philosophically opposed to getting a job and until he started to realize that I expected him to get a job. We owned a home that was perfect for us. We were so proud of it, too. We even had our wedding reception in our back yard. It was beautiful to us. I loved working on the yard, in the garden, in the kitchen. I loved everything about it. To say that I miss my life before would be a gross understatement.

One thing is for sure. Happiness would not have been a possibility if I had been required to be the breadwinner. I wonder why I hated being the breadwinner so much. Lots of women and men don't have a problem with it. Am I too selfish or self-centered?

I've spoken with three people this morning, all of them either close friends or family. I have not had the nerve to admit why I'm distant and agitated. I have made excuses that I'm busy so I don't have to talk to anybody. I can't wait until I go back to work.